


Outside the Lines

by VeronicaRich



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: F/M, First Time, M/M, Slow Burn, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: Will Lister and Rimmer get their shit together to face the sexual chemistry between them? And with the arrival of Nirvanah Crane, does it even matter anymore?





	Outside the Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cazflibs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Between the Lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/92601) by [cazflibs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs). 



> Caz inspired this a long time ago and I've been working on it for a few months. It's rough and the final is unbetaed, but maybe the roughness of the execution will convey the raggedness and awkwardness of the main characters' interactions.

It was with a mixture of trepidation and gratitude that he regarded the video message from the approaching FTL ship. “This is the _Wildfire_ , captained by Lucky Cr-“ The redhead’s eyes widened. “Arnold? Is that you?” She faltered, looking puzzled. “Ace? Arnold?”

“Just Arnold,” he answered, then coughed. “Now. Again.”

She appeared to be checking something off to the side. “Yes, that’s right. This is the dimensional ident I picked. What’re you doing on this ship?”

Rimmer sighed, not wanting this conversation. Not here, not in the middle of these … people. “Kryten, guide her ship into the bay, would you? I’ll meet you there,” he raised his voice for the woman onscreen and nodded, tapping his panel into lock mode and standing. He turned and headed out of the cockpit, ignoring and letting Lister’s, “Who is that?” trail off behind him.

Twenty minutes later, she was gracefully climbing out of the phoenix-like ship, a broad smile creasing her face. “It’s you, right?” she asked, ignoring his extended hand and enveloping him in a hug. “Oh, Arnie,” she chuckled softly into his ear. “We don’t shake hands, do we.”

“I suppose not,” he responded, closing his eyes and winding his arms around her. It felt good to hold her, someone who liked him, missed him, was unambiguous in her affection for him.

“So,” she said as she pulled away and looked him over. “No Ace, anymore?” He shook his head. “Guess that means the ship’s not here, either?”

“Passed it on,” Rimmer verified. “Can’t just dock and not use it, after all. No room, either; this ship’s about as roomy as a West End alley.” He was glad she seemed wise enough not to ask more. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, but was rather hoping I didn’t have to.” She put her arm through his. “Come on, I’ll explain it later. Don’t you have some accommodations around here?” At that, he flushed and tried to think of a tactful way to turn her down; he wasn’t in the mood at the moment. But she only cocked her head and smiled. “So I can relax. Somewhere to sit and talk? Have a drink?”

“Ah,” he said, trying to pretend he thought that’s what she meant. “This way.”

She patted his shoulder. “We’re not on the _Enlightenment_. We don’t have to do that.” She paused, lifting an eyebrow. “But I’d like it. Later.” She smiled slyly. “Oh, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Hardly the first time for us, is it? Or even the second.” They paused on the landing of the stairs as footsteps from above clanged down – and stopped just before Kris ran into them.

“Oh!” she emitted, glancing between them and settling on the woman. “Hello?” She looked to Rimmer. “Friend of yours?”

He didn’t know why he felt both self-conscious and righteous. “This is Kris Kochanski,” he looked at his companion and nodded toward Lister’s girlfriend, then directed his eyes to her. “And this is Nirvanah Crane … an old friend.”

**********

Time spent alone in Nirvanah’s company lifted Rimmer’s spirits amazingly. He realized a half-hour into their conversation in his quarters that being around her, talking, was actively making him happy. He was nearly giddy, not understanding until now how weighted and anxious and tight he’d felt for many months. They reminisced, swapped stories about derring-do, talked about common fixes frequently needed aboard _Wildfires_ , and sipped the good tea he saved for rare occasions.

Finally, during a conversational lull, he stood. “I’ll show you to guest quarters,” he offered, feeling a surfacing of nerves as she gracefully got to her feet, her eyes on him. “Not too far from here.” He cleared his throat, pointed to the top bunk in the same room, saying, “And, here we are. Ta-daaaa,” he jazz-handed with a weak smile.

“Mmm,” she hummed, taking a few steps forward and resting her hands on his chest to kiss him lightly. “Do I have to go right away?” Her expression was as teasing as her words. “You’re wound tighter than an old-time clockspring, Arnie. I know what’ll help.”

And smeg, did it _ever._

Three hours after her arrival, Rimmer escorted her to the midsection for the crew’s dinner. He started to introduce her, then let her take over her own while he went into the little kitchen to get two bowls of Kryten’s mystery bisque. He turned to leave and nearly ran into Lister, who’d quietly come in and was watching him closely. “Your mood’s lifted.”

Rimmer realized he was smiling, briefly examined it, and answered, “Yes, it seems it has.” Deftly swerving around Lister, he carried the soup into the next room and took the empty seat next to Nirvanah.

It was one of the best meals he’d had in a while. Instead of pretending he found his food fascinating or studiously ignoring two of the people at the table, he found it easy to concentrate on Nirvanah and the stories she told, adding detail only when she pushed him to. Mostly, about how she’d been the one to take over for the Ace Rimmer in her dimension when he’d been about to expire because she was the closest hologram and ready for a change, and wholly able to pilot his stupidly expensive and complicated faster-than-light ship. How she and this Rimmer-as-Ace had crossed each other’s paths by accident that first time, realizing since nearly each dimension had its own Ace, there were a nearly infinite number of space heroes, and how she might be the only one who had elected to choose a different name – Lucky. How they had sought each other’s assistance a few times after that when the going got really rough for one or the other of their missions.

And, Nirvanah insinuated, nudging Rimmer’s shoulder with her own, how _pleased_ she always was to see the most interesting hologram she’d met while still a crew member aboard the _Enlightenment_ so long ago. “So adorably charming and polite,” she told the group, reaching up to smooth a graying auburn curl behind his ear. He was grateful she said nothing of his nervousness or inexperience or small-portions technique. “He wouldn’t have sex with anyone else, even on ship’s orders.”

“What?” This from Kris, who looked puzzled. “Why would he?”

“The directive of the ship,” Nirvanah explained. “Sex was mandated twice a day for each crewmember, and it was encouraged to be with a different partner each time. For health and exercise,” she added, when everyone looked scandalized. “Oh,” she nodded, understanding. “I don’t suppose you would do that here; not when Arnie here seemed so surprised by it, too. Well,” she declared, no-nonsense, “believe me, a healthy amount of sex is good for the muscles and circulation, and the complexion. Good- for a cheer-up too, isn’t it?” She smiled at Rimmer, showing lovely teeth.

And so they had a cheer-up later that night, after he’d walked her around for the four-minute tour of _Starbug’s_ palatial interior. And the next morning; and the next afternoon, and evening. Rimmer wasn’t a highly-sexed person, but having gone so long without, and the opportunity to be with someone comfortable who knew his predilections in bed was too much to pass up when he’d spent the last several months in a quasi-steady state of indefinable _want_ for someone else.

Two mornings later, he was making himself coffee before drive duty when Cat slid into the kitchen for his bottle of milk, followed by Lister. “Hey, Magnet Head!” Cat greeted Rimmer. “That’s some yowling you and your lady are doing. She must be pretty athletic!”

“I think you may be confusing me with these two,” he answered, gesturing haphazardly toward the Scouser while adding cream to his mug. “They’re the ones who make the noise.”

“Huh?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s you and Red going at it.” Cat pointed at Lister. “That monkey makes different noises. Anyway,” he added, before taking a swig of his milk, “makes it hard to get in my ten hours of a night, okay?”

“That’s the truth,” Rimmer heard – then did a double take as he realized Lister had muttered it. “Excuse me?” he intoned, turning. “You said something?”

Lister stuck his chin out. “You’re noisy.”

“I’m- I’M noisy?” Rimmer blinked and stiffened his back. “I’ve spent three months listening to you and Kris doing the horizontal hubbub next door! THAT, miladdo, is distracting from sleep.” He expected Lister to argue back, but the man said nothing, only watching him oddly. Annoyed and feeling he’d somehow said something to end up on his back foot, Rimmer marched straight out of the kitchen.

… only to walk back in fifteen seconds later to get the coffee he’d forgotten, pretending he didn’t see Lister smirking as he spun and strolled back out.

**********

He’d hoped the sex would calm him down, put into perspective the unwanted feelings he’d had for the past few months and neutralize the desire he thought he harbored for his former bunkmate. It was his turn to get some and nod off at night tired from pleasurable activity – more often than not, he’d laid awake and distracted himself by remembering some lesser-remembered exploits as Ace Rimmer. Only after doing this for a while – and inevitably replaying his failures where the real Ace would no doubt have carried the day – could he finally sleep from mental exhaustion. The sex was helping a little.

Midway through that day, Nirvanah popped the question that had led her to him: “Do you feel up to a mission again?”

“And here I thought you were visiting for my incomparably sunny disposition,” he responded drolly.

She smiled brilliantly. “Don’t make me feel bad,” she cooed. “You know I can be here for both.” He lifted an eyebrow, and she sallied forth. “It’s putting down a simulant takeover on Pacifica. I could handle it myself, but it would mean employing local officers and intelligence says there’s a good chance the sims have some sympathizers in their ranks. Ace, I can trust. I can have you back two minutes after you leave, you do realize,” she added, in case it mattered.

He thought of Lister’s cow eyes at Kris and the violently unwanted noises from their room disturbing his sleep. “That’s not a consideration,” he told her. “A hurry to get back, I mean.” One corner of her smile tweaked up and he felt like he’d missed a joke. “When do we leave?”

As he went through his closet to pack later, Rimmer reflected on all the romance novels he’d sneaked as an adolescent to satisfy his curiosity because visual porn was impossible to come by in his house. If a reader were to base their sanity on those, it wouldn’t last long. In the snatches of dialogue and inner thoughts he skimmed on the pages between the good parts, young Arnold had been given to understand a number of inaccuracies:

1\. Everybody loved one person at a time. Only.

2\. There was one person in the universe for everybody (the corollary being that if someone married and was widowed or abandoned in some other way, well, that was just clearing the path for True Love).

3\. If someone committed the error of having sex with someone other than their intended soulmate, they would be incapable of saying the correct name of their wrong partner, instead yelling out the name of the person they really wanted (what young Arnold really wanted to know was why there always seemed to be so much conversation during coitus, as though there wasn’t anything better to do).

As most romantic films seemed predicated on the same principles, he’d never had much truck with them, either, once he’d determined the books were bunk. Lister, on the other hand, loved all that smeg. He watched the movies; cried at them. If he read, he’d probably be given to those stupid books too. He probably had conversations in bed. Why, Rimmer wondered, was he thinking about this? Why did he care?

“Poppycock,” he muttered to himself as he stacked some things in a case, annoyed all over again at giving up his ship and tying himself to a tiny tin can that had nothing to recommend it to him except a resentful mechanoid, a frequently cross moggy, and – well, he would think of a clever description for the Listeriski thing later. He couldn’t wait to be useful again; yes, damn it, to be Ace again, if only for a while. Because he also knew as soon as he was out there away from this, he would start missing it … just like he had last time.

“I hate my brain,” he told the empty room.

**********

Rimmer had much to do in the actual two weeks he was gone. He helped pilot a ship like the one he once thought he would never miss, assisted in planning a simulant defeat, won the respect of thousands as a hero, and had he been mortal, would have earned a lot of well-deserved sleep. It was everything his pre-death self had ever fantasized about proving himself.

And when they arrived back on _Starbug_ a time-displaced three months after leaving nothing but a short note as notice before jetting off into a parallel dimension, Rimmer was really not surprised to find that Cat acted like it was merely later the same day. Kryten, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically eager to bend his ear, begging Nirvanah’s pardon for some privacy.

“What is it?” Rimmer demanded when she had left the midsection.

“Wait here, sir.” Kryten started to turn away.

“What do you mean, wait here? Did you or did you not need to tell me something so urgently-“

“It’s really something you need to see. It’s … Mr. Lister’s been … well, depressed might be the best way to describe it.” His blocky face frowned awkwardly, and Rimmer blinked. “I believe he’s missed you something terribly, sir.”

Rimmer elected to follow instead, with uncharacteristic silence and a pang of guilt, mixed up in his gut with the memory of expressive brown eyes. He’d been lulled into a sense of independence and enjoyment being gone so long, almost to the point of wondering if he really wanted to shelve Ace’s life again and rejoin this crew, who seemed to be able to take or leave him on days that ended in “y.” He braced himself for a fight or indifference as they approached Lister’s quarters and Kryten rang the buzzer, giving him a meaningful look before he turned and left.

Not knowing what he was facing precisely, Rimmer mentally ransacked his Ace training and steeled himself as the door opened. But it wasn’t what he anticipated. It wasn’t even who. “There you are,” she said, looking him down and up briefly, hands on her hips. “I knew you weren’t gone for good.”

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” was all he could think to say. He didn’t have a relationship with this person; they didn’t _talk_.

Kris stepped aside and inclined her head toward the center of the old sleeping quarters. “Come on, sit,” she said evenly. “We’re overdue for a talk, I think.”

“I don’t know why.” Rimmer clocked himself with a sigh; the old him had always been defensive to the point of handicap, but he’d worked really hard to overcome that. It seemed where this place and these people were concerned, there was just no easily discarding it. “I mean, I don’t know what I’ve done. Or you’ve done.” He stopped halfway to the table, closed his eyes, and mentally rebooted his thought process in a couple seconds. “I didn’t know there was anything to talk about.”

“Considering you haven’t asked about who or what, I think you already know.” He was surprised at the upraised corner of her mouth. “We should sort out some things.”

Rimmer sat, resisting the urge to fold his arms and cross his legs. It worked for about four seconds; he gave up and crossed his legs, opting to fold his hands together instead on his knee. “Go on.”

“I’m going to leave.” Kris stopped abruptly, chewed on her lips briefly, and added, “You’re going to talk Nirvanah into taking me home if I can’t. I don’t belong here; I miss David and my Kryten and my Cat.” She paused. “And there’s finally a way I can get back to them on that ship.”

He watched her expression and hands as she talked. He waited until she was done. “Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re not telling the truth entirely,” he tried again. Tact was essential to being Ace, but as he’d always freely admitted, he hadn’t been a terribly model Ace. He was, however, a stellar Rimmer, at once eager for and awkward at confrontation.

“Of course I’m not.” She took the chair opposite him. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I don’t have a soft spot for Dave here. He’s still David Lister, no matter how much more of a slob or a goof-off he is than somewhere else.” She eyed Rimmer calculatedly. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what-“

“Now who’s about to lie?” Kris cocked her head. “Blind, I’m not. Or all that thick up here.” She tapped her head. “You are harder to read than Dave, yes. He’s an open book with notes scribbled in the margins. You’re a Kindle with the battery almost drained.”

Rimmer wondered if that was a jab, even as he was flattered he might still have a poker face; he’d spent a lifetime learning how to lock down unwanted emotions. “He’s … less successful at hiding what he thinks and feels than many people his age, yes.”

“And yet, here you are making time and jetting off with someone else instead of taking the hint and going after what you _really_ want.”

Again, he felt defensive. “What I wanted was some peace and smegging quiet, and for things to be more predictable after being … out there, for all that time. Well, they’ve been predictable.”

“You mean Dave pining over Krissie? Yes, they have.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m not Krissie any more than he’s my Dave. I thought I could overlook that, and he was lonely enough that I think he thought he could, too. And we gave it a really good try. We’re just not who each other wants.”

_So you’ll get what you want, and I’ll be stuck with a dissatisfied sad sack,_ Rimmer thought. He didn’t say that. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Will you be giving notice this time, at least, or just running off in the night?”

“Look who’s talking, _Ace_.”

“You didn’t see him after _you_ left. He was so depressed and angry and lonely-“

“You didn’t see him the last three months,” she shot back, but mildly. “Did you think he wouldn’t miss you? Again?”

Rimmer was confused. “Again?”

“I came aboard a few weeks after you’d left the first time. When I first crossed dimensions¬. Dave seemed all right for a while, but – he was sort of a shambles, underneath. He told me how much he missed you; he wouldn’t even throw out your old possessions when he was told it would lighten the ship for safety reasons.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said under his breath, thinking aloud. Only now did it hit him Kryten’s speech hadn’t dragged and tripped in lies about how depressed Lister had been in this latest absence.

“It’s sentimental,” she corrected. “I see it in him when you’re gone, how lonely he is. At the very least, Arnold, you’re probably his best friend. That’s rough to lose.” She rubbed her palms together. “I mean, I _know_. Dave, my Dave, turned out to be a better conversationalist than I would’ve thought, and we don’t have everything in common, but I have to say, I think he’s my best friend. I’d hope I’m his.”

He didn’t know what to say. “You leaving is not going to magically produce ‘his Krissie’ on _Starbug_ ,” he pointed out rather weakly. But, it was a stupid point. “He’s not going to have anybody.”

“Maybe.” Kochanski shrugged. “Then again, he hasn’t ‘had’ anybody the last two months.” Rimmer’s brows drew together at her emphasis, and she added, “He broke it off with me. About a month after you went.”

“Why on Io would he-“

“I’d rather know why you’re trying to lecture me on leaving his side,” she interrupted. “Me staying here doesn’t do a thing for you or your chances.” He made to deny it and she waved a hand sharply. “Do you know you’re sitting there trying to make sure Dave has me still around because that’s what you think he wants?” He cleared his throat. She went on. “You’re worried about his happiness. At the cost of your own.” Her eyes softened. “It’s touching … as touching as you get, I suppose.” He felt offended. “What’s that look for?” she asked. “That was hardly rude. Or wrong.”

“You’re getting too familiar, for one,” he snapped. “I can too. I don’t care for you. Which, I don’t think you like me much, either.” She smiled, to his surprise. “What?”

“You have no idea,” she agreed, getting up and pushing her chair in to leave. “But at least we have the same taste in men.”

**********

Almost nobody was happy for the next several days, particularly Cat, who was forced to pull more pilot duty while Nirvanah, her ship, and Kryten worked with Kochanski to determine her dimensional identification code, to cut down the amount of hopping that would be needed. Rimmer was acutely uncomfortable around Lister, who avoided him and, in fact, seemed uncharacteristically somber around everyone. Mealtimes were largely quiet, except for Kryten asking what people wanted and quiet conversations between the two women, punctuated by occasional laughter.

Rimmer was torn in two directions. He’d always harbored great fondness for Nirvanah. She’d been kind to him, she’d been happy to have sex with him anytime, plus she had literally sacrificed herself for him; how, he wondered, was a guy supposed to tell someone like that “oh, dreadfully sorry, but even though I certainly _should_ love your cultured, beautiful, intelligent, capable self, my stupid heart belongs to that short, poorly-coiffed slob picking his teeth in the pilot’s seat? And by the way, he’s not even talking to me right now, or rather, I’m not talking to him, and we’re too smegging stupid to be left by ourselves to try to thrash out anything resembling an adult relationship.”

“Oh, Arnie,” she sighed, interrupting the one time he muttered all this out loud while combing the Ace databanks in the _Wildfire_. “You act like I don’t already know.”

“I was just trying to find something from the Ace files!” he immediately barked, guiltily realizing he hadn’t asked this particular time if he could raid her ship’s computer. “I wasn’t doing anything to the- What?” He turned to look back at her, filling the narrow short corridor from the pilot’s seat to the tiny sleeping quarters.

She crossed her arms, leaning against a bulkhead. “It IS accessible to any Ace, past or present,” she pointed out. “Besides, you couldn’t fly it off without my override anyway. No matter how much you’d like to.”

“I’m not trying to … All right, yes, I can’t say I wouldn’t like to just get out of here.” He made a small “grrr” sound and patted at his hair, constantly worried about it sticking out. “What,” he asked carefully, knowing she’d overheard his ranting but grasping for time to think, “do you already know?”

“That it isn’t me you love the most.” He resisted the urge to lie, but did argue, “I do love you, I think.”

“I know,” she nodded. “It’s not the same and it’s not enough. You love me because it’s easy – we’ve always gotten on, I helped you out, and you’ve helped me out a couple of times, I’m beautiful.” She smiled and shrugged when he glanced up at her. “It is unproductive to lie when I’m well aware I was programmed to be attractive – all the artificial holograms were. It made humans more comfortable around us.”

“You’re different, from the others on the _Enlightenment_ ,” he reassured her.

“I’ve tried to be less perfect and more human, I suppose.” She offered a hand and he stood, taking it. “But David, he already is imperfect and human, and you love him in spite of the fact you’d like to abandon him outside the airlock some days. There’s nothing really challenging about living with me … other than it would eventually drive you crazy having to live with me. I don’t have room to grow the way a human does, and I don’t have the unfulfilled promise a human like David does – especially like he does,” she added, squeezing Rimmer’s hand. “He’s smart,” she pointed out.

“And bored,” he added, not disagreeing.

“You could help with that; you HAVE helped with that,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m too perfect for a human; Kristine, she’s too different for David, at least this David. Maybe I’d say ‘too perfect’ about her, too. But you and David … I believe you two might be just imperfect enough to drive each other to be less imperfect.”

He was quiet a moment. “So you’re not coming back after you leave?”

“You want me to?” She leaned in, purring in his ear. “Maybe for some unfinished fun time?” His shoulders stiffened as he nervously tried to think of a way to politely refuse. She patted his face. “Oh, I’m not serious, Arnie. I’m aware enough to realize the sex is off the table for us. Or any other surface,” she added, smiling slyly. “Of course, that’s your choice; I’m quite content to share you with Dave.”

For the briefest flash, THAT image tripped across Rimmer’s inner eye. He could’ve said a lot of things; what came out was, “I don’t even know if he wants me.”

“No,” she disagreed, “you just don’t know how to make it happen gracefully. But it’s not going to be graceful. It’s going to be super awkward and taxing. That’s why you haven’t done it.”

He chose not to answer. “You can come back,” he assured her. “I’d like it if you came back. We don’t have to-“ He gestured between them and waggled his eyebrows, suggestive.

“We don’t have to play charades and exercise our foreheads?” she asked, smiling. He tensed, then exhaled the tension, and she gave him an impromptu hug. “Maybe sometime. Definitely sometime. But later. You two don’t need me around doing eyebrow exercises and hand-gesturing while you’re trying to get something done.”

But for the next few days, Rimmer continued not doing anything. He had a lot to think about, and ran on autopilot – shop talk and interdimensional gossip with Nirvanah, insults with Cat, short sharp bits of ships operations with Kryten, tense short occasional nods to or from Kris, and very little with Lister. They barely conversed. Rimmer discovered how much he missed those conversations the most. He really was gone over the earnest little toerag.

That didn’t mean he was blind to Lister’s taunts and faults. There was a time, after all, their tempers had exploded at one another with regularity, and the tinder was likely still there in spite of all this enforced civility.

**********

The spark was preceded by a fuse that stretched from the midsection kitchen to the sleeping quarters. Rimmer stepped into the small nook and saw his tin on the tiny corner and clocked the lid was off, how empty it was, and the bits of mess around it, including some dry tea leaves carelessly strewn, the carton of cream still sitting out, an open sugar bowl, and other teensy bits of slobbery that pointed to one offender.

“LISTER!” he bellowed, turning through the midsection and stomping up the metal stairs. “Where are you, you curry-smeared menace, and why are you stealing my tea when I know damn smegging well you’ve got your own?” He raised his hand to palm the door open as he approached, but was surprised to find it already open … and the tantalizing scent of hot tea like the freshly applied perfume of a traitorous lover. “What in the bloody hell are you doing?”

Lister glanced up mildly as he halted a few feet from the table, then went back to his magazine, saying nothing. “Don’t you-“ There was no word, so Rimmer copied the Scouser’s expression of nonchalance in exaggeration back at him, and finished with, “-ME!”

He expected some response, perhaps offended puzzlement and a “wot, me?” But Lister picked up the tea, blew across the top of the mug, pointedly took a tiny sip as he looked at Rimmer over it, and set it down. “Something wrong?” he asked, calm. Rimmer felt his nostrils achieve full canopy.

“YOU! You used up the last of my tea, you hamster-faced robber! And you left a mess!”

“Did you clean up the mess?”

“Because I- No? Why? That’s not the point.”

“Seems to be a point. You mentioned it. Kryten’ll get to it before you’re back down there again.” He took another infinitesimal sip of purloined tea. “Problem’ll be solved.”

The annoyance had matriculated and was taking a graduate-level course in pissed-off. “It doesn’t solve the problem of MY tea in YOUR bladder!”

“Oh, smeg off, Rimmer. You’ve still got a supply down in the hold nobody’s opened.”

“You know that’s beside the point!”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know what the point IS.”

“The point is I’m tired of my shit getting taken by everyone else, like I’m not even here!” Rimmer heard himself and pulled up; _that_ had escalated quickly.

But now Lister was standing, too. “It’s just a bit of TEA.”

And it was. Still, though. “You don’t get what I’m saying-“ he began, but was cut off by the other man raising his voice at last. “What in hell do you have to complain about?” Lister demanded. “You’ve had back a beautiful woman you’ve been missing! You got to have this whole other life as a superhero who could have anyone and anything you wanted. You can go back to right now, if you want!”

“You have no idea what I want! None!” Rimmer threw back, his feelings pursuing a full-blown Ph.D. in Anger now.

“Because you won’t TELL me, you closed-off, arrogant, snooty prick!”

“I’M closed off? ME? I’M closed-“

“Just repeating what I say is not a conversation!”

“Have you noticed neither is YOUR yelling, miladdo?”

“Stop calling me that!” Rimmer was confused. “I’m not miladdo or Third Technician, or ‘you great gimboid.’ MY NAME IS DAVE.”

He said the only thing that made sense. “MINE IS ARNOLD. FANCY THAT!”

They both hung, almost frozen, on twirling unseen hooks of tension and fear and emotions complex and far too simple; it was almost a given one of them would start laughing. It was not so obvious that it would be Rimmer. He couldn’t help it; the absurdity of the scene overwhelmed him briefly, and he just managed to get his hands over his face as the guffaws set in. He lowered them to just cover his mouth and kept laughing, while checking to see if Lister was perhaps going for a hidden axe somewhere to come after him. Instead, he saw the other man sort of grinning, shaking his head, his shoulders sagging as he began to laugh. Before long, they were both sniggering, and Rimmer felt tears at the corners of his eyes as he tried to contain the mirth. “If we aren’t … a sight,” Lister managed to finally sputter.

“Real head cases,” Rimmer agreed, unable to stop laughing as he wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Fighting as usual, instead of-“ He shook his head, not having the words to finish the thought.

When he lowered his hands a moment later, Lister was right there in front of him. “Instead of what?” he asked, head cocked, watching him shrewdly. Rimmer shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Lister regarded him a long moment, eyes narrowed a little, then murmured, “I think you do. I think we both do.”

Regret spiked Rimmer’s gut as he contemplated how much he wanted to be brave and complete the thought. But he knew how screwed up he was, and how ill-equipped he was to handle any complex relationship, and … and ... “Look, I’m no good at this. I’m not the person you should invest any of this kind of effort into …”

He trailed off as Lister leaned in, and up, and cut him off with his mouth. Rimmer’s reaction was immediate and powerful; he clutched this person to him and pushed into the kiss, his nonexistent heart skipping and the rest of his simulated nervous system lighting up like Christmas lights on Fox News in October. He knew he was probably holding too hard, but he wasn’t going to not enjoy this chance to touch the man. He felt him pulling away and involuntarily moaned, “Listy-“

“I’ve got to breathe, is all,” Lister panted, mouthing at his jaw. “Oh my god, I have to breathe. I can’t breathe … you took it all away.” He didn’t sound like he was complaining, his hands on Rimmer’s waist and back. “Do you kiss her like that?”

“I- No,” he admitted, eyes still closed.

Lister breathed heavily into his neck. “I want you to do it again,” he ordered, dragging his mouth back up to Rimmer’s. He licked his lips, then mouthed at the lower one. “Kiss me like that again. Just – don’t suffocate me, okay?”

Rimmer tried not to laugh and failed, and Lister pushed his nose against his and laughed too, and Rimmer forcibly dragged back down into his gut the _I love you_ that wanted out as Lister rubbed at his back and kissed his cheek and tugged him forward. Wait – tugged him? “Where’re you taking-“ he began.

“Stop thinking so much.” They stumbled a few feet as Lister pulled him backwards, coming to a stop against a wall. Rimmer braced his hands and leaned down, licking at Lister’s lips and chin and neck, and every so often their mouths would meet and kiss, and he did find himself finally muttering, “I wanted you; I wanted you, like this.”

“You’ve got no idea how I want you, you bloody smeghead.” Lister grinned up at him, but it wasn’t his old gerbil-cheeked grin, it was something at once feral and vulnerable. “You’ve had this coming a long time.”

He answered by pressing his body into Lister’s, into the wall, and kissing him for all he was worth. They writhed and their breathing rose and fell, and it wasn’t long before Lister informed him, “I think you might get me off with just that mouth” between longer, slower kisses.

“Is that what you’d want?” he moaned into those full lips.

“There’s so much I want.” They paused as Lister blinked up at him, large, almost black eyes full of emotion Rimmer had never seen in anyone. Suddenly, he began to feel a cold sweat; there was too much expectation in that expression. “Listy, I think you may be wanting something I can’t-“

“Don’t do that.” Lister shook his head. “Don’t pull back again, like you have every other time.” He was breathing heavily. “You don’t think I’ve seen you watching me, looking at me like you could eat me with those eyes?” Rimmer opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “I know you’ve got it in you to _feel,_ , man, and as fucked up as your life’s been, you’ve got to start letting it out with me. I’m not judging you; I want you, too.”

“I’m awful at relationships.”

“Yeah, I’m real good at them.” Lister snorted.

“At least you’ve _had_ them.” Rimmer’s resolve was melting faster than the 2079 Arctic glacier break-off.

“The longest was like seven months.” There was a long pause as eyes locked and Rimmer finally got it. “Oh. OH. Um, you mean … her.”

“Lise, yes.” There was the barest hint of humor in Lister’s voice as he spoke, husky, “You remember.” Rimmer nodded, trying not to blush; he’d been made to absorb all parts of Lister’s memories, including all the intimacies from the man’s point of view. _Every one._ He spotted the second when Lister figured it out, and was going to say something, but found his mouth occupied once again instead.

“Think about it,” he murmured into Rimmer’s lips. “Me, with her, me in her, you in her … you in me.” Rimmer had never heard this low, smoky voice, not even as a bystander to Lister picking up women on Zed Shift. He was sweating, his mind muzzy and his body pliable, and only then did he realize Lister had taken his hands and moved them lower, on his bottom. Lister kissed him solidly and he lifted generous handfuls of a still surprisingly firm backside just as the man combed his short fingers into Rimmer’s hair.

Rimmer searched for anything, something to distract him from what he hoped was about to happen. They’d known each other most of forever, but it was too swift, too soon. He broke the kiss. “You used the last of the tea on purpose!”

To his credit, Lister didn’t try to deny his crime. “Was wondering when that’d occur to you.” Off Rimmer’s offended look, he said, “How else was I supposed to get you here and hacked off enough to crack that guard?”

“Guard?”

“I’ve never met anyone who could put up a wall as hard to scale as you. I mean, before you were Ace it was bad enough, but since you got back, the only way I can figure out what you might be thinking is to watch when you’re not looking.” Lister pushed at him and walked him backwards toward the bunk and sat, pulling at his hand until he was beside him. “We need to have conversations about … you and me, and us, and why you gave up that ship to stay here. Sometime.” He pushed some hair behind Rimmer’s ear, fingertips lingering on the sensitive shell of it. “Should we do that right now?”

Rimmer was mesmerized by the tip of the man’s tongue between his teeth, licking at that plump lower lip. “We need to have a conversation about my tea,” he murmured, trying to distract himself from the erection bleeding sense from his brain. Lister, true to form, was doing nothing to help, threading his fingers between Rimmer’s, playing with them and getting a thumb into the sensitive part of his palm, swirling. Coupled with Lister’s dark, intense eyes, he was feeling lightheaded.

“You want to talk about some dry old leaves?” His answer was to lift Lister’s hand to his mouth and suck his middle finger in up to the first knuckle in hopes of discomfiting the other man as much. He watched those pupils expand, then widen more when he swirled his tongue around the fingertip. As he sucked the finger in further, hollowing his cheeks, Lister’s lips parted and he blinked rapidly. “Looks like you’ve got some practice at that,” he rasped; Rimmer allowed the corners of his mouth to curve up and kept sucking, swallowing the rest of the finger. He closed his eyes and released it, then swallowed slowly again … and again.

He was focusing so hard, licking to the rhythm of the throbbing in his erection, that he didn’t clock Lister shifting. Next he knew, he was on his back against the pillow, the warm press of a body on him, Lister’s breath brushing his lips as his hands gripped his wrists on the pillow. “You’re such a fucking tease,” Lister growled from the back of his throat. “That your seduction strategy, Ace?”

“Well, you know,” Rimmer cleared his throat and dropped into the non-nasal heroic tone, “whatever works in a fire, my old sausage.” He opened his eyes, having to widen and cross them to be able to look into the face nearly on top of his. In an instant, Lister’s smolder dissolved as he began snickering; Rimmer stuck his tongue out, crossed his eyes again, and joined in.

“Shit,” Lister muttered a moment later, struggling to recover as he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes no less ardent. “That should’ve probably been a real wilter.”

He lifted his knee, lightly grazing Lister’s crotch. “But it wasn’t.” He rubbed a few times as the man’s lips parted and he uttered delicious little moans. “You’re well and truly bonkers, you know.” He kept nudging until Lister kissed him again, this time lightly before growing more intense, throwing in a “shut up, smeghead” a couple of times as they pushed at each other’s clothes.

Rimmer wasn’t sure what he expected; sex with Lister wasn’t like his brain-movie fantasy, mind-meltingly hot and bothered. There was a lot more shoving than he anticipated, for one, and more conversation about body part placement than mindless dirty talk. They kept running into logistical bursts of metaphorical cold water in not getting lined up just so, and once they had to yell at a door knock “NOT RIGHT NOW, FOR SMEG’S SAKE!”

In the end, as they held tightly to each other and moved, temples mashed together, he reflected no hookup as Ace had ever been filled with as much spontaneous injury and mirth. Then, he’d often felt like a high-class gigolo putting on a show for whomever he took to bed so they could regale others later about their night of passion with the legend. Here, he struggled to keep himself and another body in the confines of a narrow bunk while still delivering some pleasure, and was frequently reminded by a mouth or tongue or finger or cock that _he_ was being considered as well.

**********

“You’re certain you don’t want to go?” Nirvanah maintained a haughtily straight face, but her eyes twinkled with the jibe.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” Rimmer countered, arms crossed.

She laid a hand on his forearm. “I have a feeling we’ll cross paths. You can’t wholly shake off being Ace, at least not this soon; and I’m sure I can use the help at some point again.” Her fingers lingered, as did an expression he couldn’t place. “I’m glad you found what you wanted, Arnie … but I can’t say I’m entirely satisfied at the outcome.” She tilted her head. “But, if someone else has to have you, I can’t think of anyone more suited to balancing you out than David. The challenge is good for you.”

“He’s a disagreeable git,” Rimmer agreed, without heat.

“He’s also not deaf,” the subject of their conversation put in, coming through the doorway, the fingers of one hand linked with Kris’s. “Although he IS puzzled what he’s done now to earn such sweet talk in his presupposed absence.” Rimmer eyed him, gaze narrowed. Lister merely kissed at the air in his direction before turning to face his companion. “Get everything you need?”

“As much as I can stand,” Kris smile wryly. “I didn’t arrive with much; I’ve plenty back home, assuming they didn’t toss it all out an airlock.”

All too soon, goodbyes were made and the two men had to step out of _Starbug’s_ small landing bay to watch from behind sealed doors so the bay could open. They were quiet as _Wildfire_ lifted and sleekly maneuvered out; as it flew beyond sight through the partly-closed bay door, he felt Lister’s hand slide into his. “Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” Rimmer admitted, “I miss what I was.” He sighed. “Which feels like more than I am, a lot of days.”

“I don’t think so.” He cut his glance sideways to Lister. “There was a time you didn’t act like you were much. Ace was … sort of two-dimensional. Together; I think that’s what you’ve got to be, to be more whole. The bastard and the savior.” He paused, leaning up to kiss Rimmer’s jaw. “Something in between.”

“So what would you call me now?” he wondered, quickly adding, “I mean, besides our typical storehouse of insults?”

Lister visibly considered this. Then he covered the back of Rimmer’s held hand with his other. “Mine.”


End file.
